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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722376">The Cold Case</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lancethewriter/pseuds/lancethewriter'>lancethewriter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wynonna Earp (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Curse, Detective Waverly, Detective Wynonna, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hopefully a slowburn, Nicole may have some trouble with the law, Slow Burn, but i wouldn't call her a criminal, more relationships and characters to be added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:13:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722376</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lancethewriter/pseuds/lancethewriter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Waverly Earp, an up-and-coming detective in the big city, is desperate to get out of her sister’s shadow. She’s sick of hearing about Wynonna’s accomplishments—all she wants is to make a name for herself. Just when she’s beginning to doubt herself, an opportunity appears. </p><p>The opportunity comes in the form of a fiery redhead who may be the key to solving the most infamous cold case in the precinct’s history. If she can get to the bottom of this, she’ll be recognized for sure. </p><p>There’s only one problem: Nicole Haught is—absolutely, most definitely, without a doubt—a criminal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Cold Case</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Waverly never liked to be late. Being on time—better yet, being early—was a personal mission for her. Punctuality was her thing. </p><p>Unfortunately for punctuality, Wynonna had asked her to grab coffee and donuts on her way to the precinct. No, not asked: she insisted. The line had been long, and the foot traffic was heavy, which meant that Waverly was all of six minutes and forty three seconds late to the debriefing. </p><p>She burst into the precinct like a storm, pushing past the double doors with her shoulder and heading straight toward the back room. Nobody bothered her; people tended to ignore her, coworkers included. At times it came in handy, such as times when she was struggling with a mix of donuts and coffee. </p><p>Drink carrier in one hand and donut box in the other, she kicked open the door to the briefing room with much more force than she had intended. Four heads turned to look at her as she stepped into the room, offering a sheepish smile as an apology. </p><p>“Waverly, you made it!” Jeremy said, grinning at her from his seat. “We were starting to think—”</p><p>He was quickly cut off. “Yeah, yeah,” said Wynonna, reaching across the table to snatch a cup from the drink carrier. “Coffee now, talk later.”</p><p>She couldn’t really blame Wynonna for how she acted—that was the way she had always been. But still, it was more than a little disappointing to be ignored in favor of a French roast. </p><p>Waverly let out a sigh, sinking into her own chair as she finished setting the foodstuffs on the table, and she dropped her bag onto the floor beside her. “You’re welcome, I guess.”</p><p>Wynonna flashed her a quick grin. “Thanks, baby girl.”</p><p>Dolls moved around the table to take one of the to-go cups, nodding at Waverly. That was his way of showing gratitude; sometimes he even threw in the occasional grunt.</p><p>At the head of the table, Doc tipped his hat at her. He was never really a fan of coffee—tending to jumpstart his day with a shot of whisky—but she appreciated his gratitude nonetheless. </p><p>Dolls, Jeremy, Doc, and Wynonna. That was their little team. Waverly too, if she was counting, but she rarely felt like a part of the team these days. Even Jeremy felt more important. She meant no offense to Jeremy, of course. </p><p>She only wanted a bit of recognition. </p><p>Well, that wasn’t completely true. She wanted more than just a bit, though she’d settle for a portion of the spotlight if it meant stepping out of Wynonna’s shadow. </p><p>She dreamed of the day when her name would be the most renowned of all the Earps: not Wyatt, not Wynonna, and certainly not Ward. Waverly. </p><p>“Earp, what’ve you got for me?”</p><p>Waverly perked up at the mention of her surname, snapping out of her daydream and taking a quick note of her surroundings. </p><p>Dolls wore an expectant stare on his face, but Waverly’s shoulders sagged upon realizing he wasn’t addressing her. </p><p>Wynonna leaned back in her chair, kicking her feet up on the table as she prepared her answer. She gave a halfhearted shrug. “Far as I can tell, Del Rey is operating under the cover of a local bar. Shorty’s, I think it’s called.”</p><p>“You have any proof of that?” came Dolls’ reply, raising his brows questioningly. “We can’t afford to get this wrong.”</p><p>All eyes were on Wynonna. Waverly’s included.</p><p>Wynonna shrugged again, taking a sip of her coffee. “Ooh, hot, hot.” She fanned her open mouth with a free hand. “Right, uh, Shorty’s. Let’s call it a hunch.”</p><p>Waverly could only watch as Dolls and Wynonna engaged in a sort of staring contest. For once, though, she was thankful for Dolls’ steely, no-nonsense attitude—surely he’d recognize Wynonna’s blatant foolishness and shut it down. </p><p>“Alright. That’s good enough for me.”</p><p>Waverly blinked in confusion, wondering if she was hearing correctly. She refused to believe that Xavier “I ran background checks on every member of the precinct” Dolls would accept a hunch as a liable cause for investigation. But then again, here they were.</p><p>She stood from her chair abruptly, drawing the attention of her teammates. “We can’t possibly conduct a raid on the basis of a hunch!”</p><p>Dolls regarded her with an amused grin and shook his head. “We’re just going in to ask some questions. Nothing more.”</p><p>She felt her face go red, and she sat down wordlessly. Of course she had to go and make a fool of herself. And of course Dolls would be rational about this. He was a smart guy. Wynonna could certainly be rash, but not Dolls. </p><p>“Cool beans,” said Wynonna, breaking the tension with a lopsided smile. “So, Dolls and I will head to Shorty’s, scope out the joint, do our thing. Sound good?”</p><p>There was a murmur or agreement among the group, and Doc held up a hand, twirling his car keys around his finger. </p><p>“I’ll drive,” he insisted. At the questioning stares of everyone in the room, he added, “What? I just got new wheels.”</p><p>Wynonna rolled her eyes. “Fine. Me, Dolls, and Doc will go.”</p><p>Waverly was floored. As her three teammates stood to depart, she spoke up. “Hey, what am I supposed to do? What about Jeremy?”</p><p>Another shrug from Wynonna. “Jeremy will monitor us on the body cams… so, help him I guess?” She chuckled lightly. With a wave, she was gone, and soon it was just her and Jeremy left in the room. </p><p>She sighed, scooting her chair to sit next to Jeremy, who was engrossed in something on his laptop. He seemed focused on something, so Waverly leaned over to peak at his screen.</p><p>“Woah!” Jeremy immediately lowered the screen, laughing nervously. “Oh, hi Waverly.” </p><p>“Hi, Jeremy.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Whatcha doin’ there?”</p><p>He raised the laptop’s lid again slowly, clicking out of a tab. “Totally not reading the latest Doctor Strange comic. Not at all.”</p><p>“Right.” Waverly grinned as she leaned forward against the table. “So, how can I help you?”</p><p>Jeremy tapped into the feed on the body cams, which hadn’t been activated yet. Waverly was certain they’d get a clear view of Wynonna’s day-drinking, though. “Oh, I don’t actually need any help. I’m sure Wynonna just told you that so you wouldn't feel bad about being left behind.”</p><p>Waverly’s face fell. “Really?”</p><p>Jeremy looked over at her, and his eyes went wide. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. Maybe she just—”</p><p>She shook her head, leaning back in her chair. “It’s fine. I get it.”</p><p>He pointedly avoided her gaze, focusing back on his laptop. “Nice going, Jeremy,” he muttered.</p><p>Waverly stood from her chair once more and wandered over to the stack of files that Dolls had laid out on the table the previous night. He had supposedly collected them on the basis that they might be connected to Bobo del Rey’s gang, so she figured she may as well give them a look.</p><p>She flicked through the files one-by-one. In the background, she heard Jeremy’s voice prattling about something, but she paid him no mind. She wasn’t in the mood to talk.</p><p>Her mind wandered as her fingers combed through various files. It was so like Wynonna to leave her behind like this. She never trusted her to do anything: not that she needed Wynonna’s approval. She just wished everyone would stop treating her like a child. </p><p>Her gaze fell upon an unmarked file. It bore no name, no date, and nothing to distinguish it from the rest, though perhaps its emptiness was the very thing that caught her eye. She pulled it from the stack and flipped open the folder before promptly dropping it to the floor, a hand flying to her mouth to contain a gasp.</p><p>Jeremy looked at her as she slowly retrieved the file from the ground, placing it gingerly on the table as if it might explode. It wouldn’t surprise her. </p><p>“Everything okay, Waverly?” Jeremy asked, moving to stand beside her. Once he saw what she was looking at, he nodded solemnly. “Ah. You found the file on the Pine Festival Massacre.”</p><p>That explained absolutely nothing. </p><p>The file consisted of a single piece of paper and a stack of photographs pinned to the side with a paperclip. The photo on the top of the pile was a graphic, gory image of a mutilated corpse. Suddenly, Waverly was glad she hadn’t eaten any doughnuts this morning. </p><p>“What…” She shook her head as if clearing away a fog. “What is this?”</p><p>“The Pine Festival Massacre,” Jeremy reiterated, as if that cleared things up. “It happened a few decades ago. A whole music festival full of hippies, almost all of them gutted like our friend here.” He tapped the photograph. “No one’s ever been able to find the culprits..”</p><p>Waverly touched a hand to her temple; she was used to seeing blood, and she was no stranger to violence, but as she spread the photographs out on the table, she couldn’t help but feel queasy. “Wait, Jeremy—you said almost all of them died. There were survivors?”</p><p>“Just one.” He dragged out another photograph, though this one lacked the same blood and gore as the others. The photo depicted a small child, perhaps around the age of five or six, huddled in a police blanket. She sat in the cab of an ambulance while being consoled by an officer. The image was thoroughly heartbreaking. </p><p>“Was she a witness?”</p><p>He shrugged. “Probably. But she was in shock when first responders found her. Even after she recovered, she was uncooperative.” </p><p>“Uncooperative?” Waverly pressed, unable to tear her eyes away from the photo. The girl looked tiny, her curtain of red hair nearly obscuring her entire face. More importantly, she looked terrified. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“Investigators kept trying to ask her about the massacre,” Jeremy explained. “But she refused to answer them. Eventually, they just stopped trying. With no leads, the case was pretty much abandoned.”</p><p>“It’s a cold case, then.” She sighed and gathered the photographs together, pinning them back onto the folder. “How long has it been since anyone looked into it?”</p><p>“Seven-ish years, maybe? I think someone went to talk to the witness a few years ago, but he didn’t even get a response.”</p><p>She wasn’t sure how this long-abandoned cold case related to the Revenant gang, but then again, Dolls may have gathered anything that could possibly be relevant. A case with no leads could, in theory, link back to the Revenants. Then again, it was unlikely.</p><p>Waverly examined the piece of paper next. Aside from the images, it was the only thing in the file. She could see why—it didn’t look like they had much information to document. There were a few descriptions of injuries sustained by the victims; the mutilation had a sort of pattern, and whoever filed the report added that it seemed “ritualistic”. She suppressed the urge to shudder and kept reading. </p><p>“Hey, there’s an address here,” Waverly pointed out, frowning. 622 Harrow Street, APT 102. Not only that, but there was a name listed beside it. “Who is Nicole Haught?”</p><p>“That’s the kid.” Jeremy hummed, then corrected himself. “The witness, I mean. She’s obviously not a kid anymore, seeing as it’s been twenty years, though maybe if she was still a kid we could connect the case to some sort of magic—”</p><p>“Thanks, Jeremy.” She almost laughed. Somebody had clearly been reading too many comic books. “I bet anyone who solved this case would be well-recognized, yeah?”</p><p>Her friend didn’t look up from his laptop, chuckling to himself. “Sure, but you’d have to be a pretty good detective to figure this one out. Maybe Dolls could do it, or one of the Earps, like good old Wyatt. I’m sure Wynonna probably—”</p><p>Waverly snapped the file shut. She came from a long line of detectives, and yet all anyone ever talked about was Wynonna. When would it be Waverly’s turn?</p><p>She had made up her mind. She would solve this case.</p><p>She picked up her satchel from where she had discarded it earlier and slipped the file inside, swinging it onto her shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Jeremy.”</p><p>“Huh? Where are you going?” </p><p>She placed one hand on the doorknob, casting a smile back at her teammate. She said nothing, opting to let her silence speak for itself, and left. </p><p>———</p><p>Waverly stood in front of a tall building, the sounds of the city bustling all around her. She didn’t think she would ever get used to all of the noise and smog and sheer number of people, but all of that was now secondary to her task at hand. She had a witness to find.</p><p>Her eyes flicked down to the sticky note on which she had written the address, then back up to the building. A plaque above the large double-doors displayed the number “622”. She was definitely at the right place.</p><p>Once inside, she found herself standing in a lobby of sorts; there was a seating area, with a few worn couches and a table that seemed to be accumulating dust. Across from the door from which she entered was an elevator. The apartment was listed as number 102, so she figured she’d best check the next floor.</p><p>The elevator was musty and felt way too small; she couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief when the doors opened at the next floor. A long hallway awaited her, but she stopped at the first door. </p><p>“102,” she said aloud, glancing at the door with a grin. Without hesitation, she knocked on the door, then knocked again for good measure.</p><p>Several seconds passed without an answer. She folded her hands behind her back, rocking on her heels. Waverly was prepared to wait. Once again, she rapped her knuckles against the door, calling out, “Is anyone home?”</p><p>She heard shuffling in the apartment, and her heart began to race. She hadn’t thought of what she’d say to the witness, but then again, she was pretty good at thinking on her feet. She’d come up with something. As a minute passed, her heart rate evened out and the excitement began to ebb; she began to resign herself to the face that no one would answer.</p><p>She looked away from the door, staring out the window at the end of the hall closest to her. The window faced another building, equally tall and unrelenting. She huffed, wondering what the point of the window was if there was nothing beautiful to see. </p><p>Five minutes had passed since she first knocked on the door, and she pulled out her phone to confirm it. She moved to knock again—one last try couldn’t hurt—when a flash of movement outside the window caught her attention. She hurried to the window, pressing her face against the glass. She had half a mind to chastise herself for how unsanitary it was when she caught a glimpse of red hair.</p><p>Outside the window was a metal platform surrounded by railings, and it seemed to extend further against the building. She let out a gasp. Someone was scaling the fire escape; someone was running away.</p><p>Her hands flew to the windowsill, but there were no latches. This window didn’t open.</p><p>“What the hell is the point of a fire escape, then?” she yelled to no one in particular as she threw open the door to the stairwell. There was no time for an elevator—she raced down the stairs and burst out into the street, rounding the corner of the building. </p><p>“Thank god I didn’t wear heels,” she breathed out, gritting her teeth and turning into the alleyway. She spotted the red hair again as it disappeared around a corner at the end of the alley. Letting out a noise of frustration, she kept running. Somebody had to be hiding something.</p><p>“Hey!” she called, voice echoing off the walls. “Hey!”</p><p>Her breath came in ragged pants, and she silently promised to schedule more time for cardio. The sound of her shoes hitting the pavement filled her ears.</p><p>At last, she came to the end—it was less of an end and more of an intersection where four buildings met. She sighed, turning down the alley on her left and—</p><p>She was pushed backward with an extraordinary force; fists were wound tightly in the collar of her sweater, and Waverly found herself pinned against the brick wall with a tall, intimidating woman standing over her. </p><p>Oh, that’s who the red hair belongs to, she thought, frowning. Something about her seemed familiar.</p><p>“So,” the woman said, her hands pressed against Waverly’s shoulders hard enough to bruise. “I think you should tell me what the hell you want from me.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm going to try to stick to a weekly posting schedule! episode 4x02 was a doozy, huh?</p><p>anyways, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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